


The Empty

by ArmAHolic96



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/M, Inspired by Mad Max Series (Movies)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-10
Updated: 2019-09-10
Packaged: 2020-10-14 02:42:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20593364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArmAHolic96/pseuds/ArmAHolic96





	The Empty

"A light rain had begun to fall, the tortured clouds finally releasing the moisture that was long overdue, but would the light ran be enough to sate their thirst. As with the storms of old, a few flashes, split the air, followed by growling from the sky. No this storm would not do, it moved away before anything changed, another day they would have to wait to see if the sky would grant them sweet respite. She scratched another line into the side of the tower, but unlike the rest, she made a small star shape above it. "503 days", she exclaimed out loud, as she studied the chart of scratch marks on the wall, "it's getting more frequent Mark", she shouted down from the tower. She listened for a second, nothing, "Mark!" she yelled. "What, oh, uh-huh yea", Mark said. She just rolled her eyes and pulled the binoculars up off of her chest, and peered through them out at the sun-baked terrain. It spread out in every direction, as far as the eye could see, nothing but ruin, and decay. She frowned, no signals from the other towers could be seen, this wasn't unusual, people had other things going on and sometimes forgot to signal. What was unusual was the nearest tower had failed to report in the last two days. There were two signals that the tower could use: light and smoke, each tower used to have a functioning spotlight, but that time is long gone, the bulb of these spotlights, was backed by a reflective housing, thus they could use the reflection of the housing to flash a signal. The other option was less used, smoke, different colors or amounts signaled different things to their HQ.

Nothing, not even a glimmer from the nearest tower. "I'm going to have to travel to Mesa Outpost, and see what is wrong over there", she said, her voice echoing to Mark as she climbed down the ladder from the tower. "You can't do that again", Mark said, looking up at her from what he was working on, with worry in his eyes. "I'll make it further at night this time, without the limp slowing me down", Mark just shook his head, "You nearly died last time, even now your skin is still recovering from the morning light, I can't, in good conscience let you make that trip again", said Mark, staring straight into her eyes, with all the concern in the world. She stared back at him just as intensely, "I need to know if they are still alive, if anything has happened to them", She almost shouted back at Mark. She saw his demeanor change, he looked hurt, but it quickly passed out of his eyes. "What about taking the Spit?", Mark asked. "We are still missing a few things for continuous flight, plus I don't want to break her before she has even had a chance at being what she once was." She shot back, a little angrier than she meant to. She knew last time she had tried to make that trek, it had been rough, what with her hip and leg healing. The limp from her right side had slowed her progress a lot more then she had hoped it would, causing her to be exposed for almost thirty seconds. She shuddered at the memory of feeling her exposed flesh frying like a steak. "Well does she run", Mark pushed farther, "Yes, well actually no, she coughs, and sputters but not much more than that,'' She replied, strolling with him down the sheltered walkway to the hangars. They both stopped in front of a large rolling side door, Mark walked over to the side and pushed a green backlit button. The door let out a mighty groan and began to grind open, revealing a large space within. In this space sat four different aircraft of different shapes and sizes, all in various states of disrepair, but in the middle sat the fifth airframe, a mighty Spitfire Mk. VB, but it was less glorious warplane and more rusted heap at this point. The pair walked across the hangar toward the Spit, their footsteps, echoing as they made their way to the aircraft. "Wow, she's looking better then the last time I saw her" Mark said, being the first to speak, "You really did pour your soul into it in the past two weeks", he continued." Yep, once I found the few parts I needed, it all just came together", She replied. Mark stared at her for a second,"What?", She said, "Hold on, I think I have something that might help", he yelled as he ran off toward the tower. Mark had a small workshop set up in a building at the base of the tower, in which he would tinker for hours to make something that would improve how they lived. Most of the time though, his inventions would go up in smoke a few hours later, but every now and then he got it just right. He returned about seven minutes later holding some random jumble of wires and electronics in his hands. "What's this Mark?", She asked, "When you said it would cough and sputter but not turn over, I figured it might be a battery issue, but after thinking it through, I realized it must be the ignition coils". "So these are.....replacement coils?" She gave Mark a skeptical look, "Even better these are boosted to provide more juice to get the engine firing, also have you checked the timing on the engine recently?" Mark walked over to the engine bay, "If the timing is off the extra boost will be either in vane, or will wreck the engine", "I'll install these if you can check the timing on the engine, then maybe, just maybe she might fire up for the first time".

Day 504

She awoke early to the sound of thunder, the patter of rain. She jumped out of bed, as quietly as she could and got dressed. She stopped for a moment upon catching a glance of her forearm, the most badly burned area, the burn had shrunk to a collection of tiny scars, where they had scabbed over. Only a quick glance is all she gave it, before hurriedly running up the ladder to the sheltered observation deck. Clouds, thick, purple, and angry, roiled across the sky. Lightning exploded over and over again in the sky above her, leaving behind almost a constant roar of thunder. The rain picked up, she reached up above her, and pulled a series of ropes, which opened collectors all over the top of the tower, collecting the sweet precious water in underground tanks. She stuck her head into the towers internal room, to check on the flow of water through the clear pipes, and what she saw was water rushing down the collection pipes, to the tanks below. Overjoyed she let out a hollar, “Everything alright up there,'' shouted Mark, “Yes, just happy to have excess water again, no more rationing,'' She yelled back. The storm was finishing up the rain began to slow once more, soon it would be blistering hot again. As the rain stopped, She reached up once again and pulled on the ropes to close the collectors, they slapped shut with a “bang”. She sighed, the sun began to show through the clouds, She grabbed the top of the ladder and climbed down to the office building below. When she passed the line between Tower and building, she shivered, the early morning rain had cooled it off down below, she looked around, but saw no sign of Mark. “Hey where’d you go Mark”, She called out, no reply came for a few seconds, but then from below a muffled response, “Just checking on what we got from that storm”. The sound of feet on old wooden stairs indicated that he was on his way back up, “We got enough to last us awhile if we continue to ration, but if not a month or so”. “I should have heard the thunder earlier, and got the collectors open faster”, She pouted. “It’s not your fault, we had no indication that it would storm this morning.”

Day 506

“Try it again, less throttle this time, don’t want to flood it,” Mark called out, “Clear…….Cranking,” She shouted. The Spit gave a few hard coughs, then a sputter, then turned over a few times, before dying. “Damn,” She yelled and threw the wrench lying in the cockpit across the hangar. It went clanging across the floor, before banging off the landing gear of one of the other airframes, an old Cessna Grand Caravan. The Caravan used to be their go to for supply runs, but ever since they lost one of the landing gear a few years back, all its done is sit, propped upright. She watched dust float off of the airframe, and drift across the hangar. Her face contorted in a mixture of anger and thought. “You know, throwing tools at the Cara won’t fix the Spit”, Mark remarked quietly. “What are we missing!” She shouted to the ceiling. She climbed down from the cockpit, “We need to go over everything in the key systems one more time, I’m sure we are missing something”. “We already went over all of the key systems twice now, what do you think we are going to see differently?” Asked Mark, “Maybe, its not a critical system that we are missing, like this wire”, Mark pointed to a red wire in the engine bay. “Wait a minute”, She grabbed the wire and touched it to where it had come loose. Sparks jumped as she touched it to the bolt it come from, She grabbed the leading edge of the wing and hoisted herself up and vaulted into the cockpit. “Clear……...Cranking!!” She shouted to Mark. “Clear!!” Mark yelled back, then as if by magic the nearly 80 year old aircraft coughed and roared to life. The Mk. VB was truly a fire breather, spewing blue smoke first then small jets of flame from each of its 12 cut exhausts stacks. She let out a feral yell as She throttled back the Spit to a low idle. Mark whooped off to the side, he jogged over to the side of the hangar were there was a little office, and grabbed the handset to the radio mounted inside. “It’s not quite dark enough yet, I think you should wait to go for a test flight,” Mark said into the handset, a crackly response came back. “It doesn’t matter we need to know if she is ready” She replied. “I need a combat reload”, she called over the radio. Mark just rolled his eyes and ran over to the cart containing the ammunition for the aircrafts 4 .303 British machine guns, and the dual 20MM cannons mounted beneath the cockpit on the belly of the aircraft. He slipped a radio headset from the cart over his ears then pushed it over to the plane and plugged in the headset to a port under a hatch on the side of the plane. “ I’m only giving you 25% ammo”, Mark said into the headset, “Need to save what little we have for the 20’s” He continued. “Fine, it will have to do for a test fire, give me the AP-IT’s we have more of them and they are newer, less wear on the guns.” She called back. “Roger”, came the reply. She heard the hatch slap shut and the headset “pop” as it was unplugged from the aircraft. She saw Mark push the cart out of the way then motion for her to wait while he opened the doors. She took this time to go through her flight checklists, and get ready to roll. A shaft of dim light pierced through the crack in the doors as they began to trundle open, with a creaking she could hear above the Spit’s engine, it had been awhile since she had been up. The doors ground to a halt once they opened fully, and She could see The Empty spread out beyond the cracked pavement of the airport, the Spit’s engine note changed in pitch and She began rolling out into the fading light. “Wrenches, Flight of one, Cleared for takeoff, Runway 11.” Came Marks voice over the radio, “Copy that Mesa HQ tower, Wrenches Flight of one, on the roll,” She responded. “Oh and Vox be careful up there” Mark said, “Can’t promise anything now that she is running”. Soon the roar of the Spit came booming through the open doorway of the tower, He stared at her as she roared past, down the runway and up into the air, her main gear and tail wheel folding up as she climbed out of the airport. “Don’t roam too far away, we need to be able to recover the Spit tonight, if you need to land in The Empty due to engine problems”. “Cop..y…………...Mar..k! We ..ve…got....prob..ms…………..” “Vox come in your breaking up, Vox repeat last, VOX repeat your last!” Mark slammed his fist on the table making his coffee cup jump, “Vox if you can hear me?” He let go of the button on the handset, but static was the only reply. Mark hung his head, and whispered under his breath “Come on Vox”. Then out of the static, quiet at first, her voice, got louder. Mark perked up, and grabbed the handset again, “Vox do you read on Freq 119.7?” “I read you Mark, it’s hard to hear you though I’m going to get closer to tell you what happened.” He could see the Spit now its Nav and landing lights shining brightly as it approached the tower. He noticed in the gloom that the radio mast was missing and there was a long tear in the aluminum skin of the tail of the aircraft. “Mark something hit the radio mast and knocked it off into the tail, that’s why I lost contact with you.” Is the Spit still flight worthy Vox, or is that the only issue?”. Mark called as she flew by. “That’s it, everything else is going fine.” She replied. As she flew by one of the exhaust stacks started spewing black and blue smoke, a sign of poor ignition and burning engine oil. “Vox looks like cylinder 6 has lost ignition, do you think its fuel or electrical issues?” Said Mark over the radio. “I’ve got it back now, that fuel injector is the original one that was there when we found the plane, so I can’t blame it after nearly 80 years it’s finally quitting.” Vox called back. “WAIT, you never changed that one?” Mark sounded upset,”I could only find 11 replacements over the years, so what, it runs just as well on 11 cylinders as it does on 12.” Vox answered. “You are not making me feel any better about you being up there.” Mark said as he tracked her with his binoculars though the night sky. “I’m going for the moon” she called. “Vox don’t start doing aerobatics.” But it was too late, He heard the Spit’s engine start to roar the loudest it had all night. Vox yanked back hard on the Spit’s stick, shooting the aircraft into a straight vertical climb, fire spraying from the exhausts. Vox kept it climbing until she could feel the stall start to happen, she pulled the stick back farther until the aircraft stalled and rolled over on its back, and kept it pulled back until the Spit started to dive. Vox rolled the Spit to the right, and added some right rudder, sending the 80 year old Spit into a full power flat spin, while diving towards The Empty. Laughter crackled over the radio as she spun, laughed, and dived. Vox canceled the flat spin at about 500 feet, then dove to 50 feet, leveled out and ripped out over The Empty. Dust and dirt sprayed up in her wake as blasted over the desert. “Vox what did I say about being careful and taking it easy?” Static, “Vox?” “Oh yeah that’s right” said Mark to himself. He kept tracking her as far as he could, then we he was about to lose her lights to the stars, she began to return. Not nearly as low, but just as fast, “You ready Mark here I come”, crackled Vox’s voice. Then with a ear shattering scream she ripped by the tower, so close he could see the scratches in the paint, even in the dark. “Vox that was way, way, way, to close for the first flight” Mark shouted, rather upsetly at Vox, over the radio. The response, laughter, lots of laughter. “Not Funny!” Said Mark. “You can’t make me laugh like that I can’t see through the tears in my eyes!” Replied Vox. 

Day 507

Mark awoke to the sound of muted, loud, pumping music. He got out of bed, got dressed and hurried over to the hangar. The music got louder as he did so, he opened the rolling door and was instantly overwhelmed by the sound of rowdy punk music and the smell of cleaning solvents and paint. He walked over to the music control board mounted on the wall and turned down the music. “Hey what the heck are you doing!” Vox shouted from somewhere in the hangar. “Where are you Vox?” called Mark. “Over here” came the response from the direction of the Spit. “Oh real helpful” said Mark quietly. There was a “BANG” then “OW, damn it” from the Spit’s cockpit, Mark chuckled at her pain as he climbed up the step ladder to the cockpit. “What’s so funny Mark?” Vox asked. “Nothing in particular” Mark replied. “Also the Spit looks awesome so far.” The Spit had a fresh coat of paint on it, desert tan on the top, light blue and white blotches on the bottom, perfect for blending with The Empty. “ I got up early this morning to give her a fresh look”, Vox said as she looked over her paint job. “ I thought the point was to stand out, to be visible to the outposts?” Mark asked inquisitively. “ I’ll tell you why I painted like this, I found the radio mast off the end of the runway last night.” Mark raised his eyebrows, wondering where she was going with this. “Here look”, she handed him the mast, at the base of the mast where it met the aircraft was a small cylindrical hole, that glanced off the base. “This is a bullet hole, from entry to exit, it’s clear to see”. “But who would shoot at the system that keeps the settlements safe and running?” Mark shot her a questioning glance. “We don’t have many enemies out here, but maybe scav’s looking to bring the Spit down, to sell for supplies?” Vox replied. “Could be, can you fix this radio, because if you haven’t noticed we kinda need it?” Vox asked Mark. “Yeah shouldn’t be a problem.” He replied. Mark left with the radio mast, and headed towards his workshop, Vox wondered what he was up to since the Spit was right here. She shrugged it off and went back to work tightening the rudder pedal play, and scrubbing the rust off the interior of the cockpit.  
Mark returned a few hours later with the radio mast, he promptly climbed the step ladder next to the Spit, and set about reattaching the radio mast. As he hooked up the wiring Vox wandered over to him. “How’s it going getting the mast back on Mark?” “ Well so far so good.” He answered back engrossed in his work. “What did you do to it in your workshop?” Vox questioned. “I did my best to boost the signal as much as I could, and if it works, I should be able to stay in contact with you until you nearly reach Mesa Outpost.” “That’s good hear, fingers crossed everything runs and goes smoothly.” Vox commented.  
She flew again that night, more crazy stunts, pushing the engine and the airframe to its limit, and finally a real test fire of the guns. The .303’s chattered, and 20’s thumped, and only one jam on one of the .303’s. Vox cried in the air that night, she thought she’d never see the Spit fly again, but she was not sad but happy and overjoyed to fly a real stallion again. Sure the Cara and the Goose were fun to fly, but they were not fire breathing monsters like the Spit. Unlike the Cara or the Goose the Spit flew, and did so, really well. Mark chuckled to himself as she pushed the Spit hard night after night, until she deemed it safe to travel to Mesa Outpost, and a few others just to check in. She was also going to search for a new left gear for the Cara. 

Day 511

Today was the day. She was going to make the trip across The Empty to Mesa Outpost, out of HQ radio range, if anything happened, she would have to rely on herself, or Mesa Outpost, if they were still out there. Mark was nervous and fretting as per usual, she wasn’t nervous, she knew she could do this. Her only concern was the Spit, she was fairly certain something was going to break, she just hoped it was nothing major. Any major problems would mean she couldn’t return right away. “Got everything you need for the trip?” Mark asked, she could hear the nervousness in his voice.”Mark I’ll be fine, I can hear it when you speak.” “Is it that noticeable?” He said. She chuckled, “yes now please stop worrying.” She went back to her pre-flight checklist, then hopped out of the cockpit to do a lengthy walk around. Mark watched her, with pride in his eyes, knowing she’d be fine. But deep down in the pit of his stomach, he could feel it, gnawing at him, something wasn’t right. He did his best to suppress that feeling, knowing that if he indulged that feeling, it might force him to stop her. She finished her walk around and, gave Mark a satisfied look, then turned back towards the Spit. Here was the moment, her heart beat rapidly in her chest, she climbed the small step ladder onto the trailing edge of the wing, and up into the cockpit. She waved mark over from where he was standing,”I’d like to do a full hydraulics test real quick.” Mark rolled his eyes, they had already done this yesterday during the day. “Go on, spin up, your good!” Mark shouted across the hangar. She threw her hands up in bewilderment, then went back to her engine start checklist. The Spit’s engine cranked, once, twice, then roared to life, running at high idle while it warmed up. Once again cylinder 6 lost power for few seconds before gaining power once more. The doors creaked open slowly, and the cool, late evening air flooded in, the smell of rain on the breeze. She taxied out to the end of the runway, whereupon she did a run-up, and a control surfaces test. There was radio silence between her and Mark, but Mark, did make a radio call, to Mesa Outpost, a last call of warning that she was coming.


End file.
